


Let Sleeping Geese Lie

by Yuliares



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Birds, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Geese, M/M, Post-Canon, Retirement, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 08:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29623131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuliares/pseuds/Yuliares
Summary: In which Aziraphael and Crowley argue about birds, sleep, and theoretical versus practical knowledge.Somehow this culminates on the theoretical comfort of being a goose while sleeping.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Let Sleeping Geese Lie

Aziraphael finds Crowley in the garden, lounging on the bench with his bright hair in a sweaty bun and dirt smudged across his nose.

“Crowley,” says Aziraphael firmly, the word laid down carefully and with deliberation.

“What?” says Crowley, jerking upright, immediately guilty and leaping to deny it. 

Whatever _it_ is. 

“Whatever it is, Angel, it wasn’t me-”

Aziraphael folds his hands on top of each other, clearing his throat. 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you turning all the local songbirds into jackdaws.”

Crowley looks up at Aziraphael, the bright afternoon sun catching on the angel's hair, lit like a radiant white-hot halo. He stares, a deer caught in the light, for a long moment.

“... it’s an upgrade!” Crowley finally blurts, and tears his eyes away, blinking rapidly. He's got sun spots now. “They’re much smarter as jackdaws. Very clever birds, they are.”

Aziraphael pulls a lace handkerchief from his cream colored waistcoat and wipes the dirt from Crowley's nose. Crowley wrinkles it at him in protest, and is ignored.

“I’m _quite_ sure you were the one who told me," says Aziraphael, "There can be ‘too much of a good thing’, my dear.”

Crowley slouches down on the bench. “S’not like the humans are gonna notice.”

Aziraphael pats his knee sympathetically. “They have. There are quite a lot of worried birdwatchers in the area.”

Crowley curls a disdainful lip, but relents all the same. “Fine. But I’m keeping a few of them, the cleverest of the lot. It’d be cruel to take it away from them, Angel.”

“Of course,” says Aziraphael, amused. “And we couldn’t have _that._ ”

“Oh, shaddap,” says Crowley, snapping a number of surprised birds back into more colorful plumage.

~

Perhaps it's the bird discussion that has them both noticing the neighbor's chickens, out on their next stroll around town.

The hens are red and orange and speckled with black, sassily sauntering across the garden. A large rooster, dramatic tailfeathers fluttering in the breeze like a banner, crows three times in the span of minutes it takes for them to walk past.

“Heavens, they are noisy, aren’t they?” says Aziraphael, craning his neck to take one last look behind them.

“An endless cacophony,” says Crowley approvingly. “Did you know I was the one who started that ‘crows in the morning’ malarkey? Didn’t realize how much mileage I’d get out of that one, now they’re bringing chickens into city backyards.”

Aziraphael tuts disapprovingly. “I’m sure you’ve ruined many a good night’s sleep.”

“S’not my fault no one does their research,” says Crowley cheerfully. “Sides, what would you know about a good night’s sleep? You never sleep.”

“I’ve never trimmed candles either," counters Aziraphael. "But I’m certain I understand the mechanics of it.”

“Book smarts aren’t the same as experience.”

Aziraphael huffs, offended. “Are you saying - you doubt my ability to apply theory to practise!”

“No!” says Crowley, throwing up his hands. “I’m just saying, on principle, they’re not the same!”

“Oh!” says Aziraphael, and pulls them to a stop. The path ahead of them is covered in geese. A couple of long necks stretch upwards as if to mark their approach.

“C’mon,” mutters Crowley, and tugs him onto the grass, cutting a wide berth around the flock of waterfowl.

Aziraphael follows his lead, amused. “So you’ll turn defenceless songbirds into jackdaws, but you’ll detour around geese?”

“You think I’m stupid? I’m not gonna pick a fight with _geese_. They’re terrifying. Could probably take on Hell right now, if they cared to. ‘specially if they got the swans to join ‘em.”

Aziraphael is doing that thing where he’s trying to look concerned, but can’t help smiling, lips twitching in different directions. “Should Hell be worried?”

“Nah,” says Crowley. “Unfortunately. Too hot - not enough bodies of water for them to sleep and poop in.”

They look back at the geese, who have settled down, a number of them tucking their heads under their wings for a nap.

“They do look rather comfortable,” observes Aziraphael.

Crowley scoffs.

“What!” says Aziraphael, pulling back to frown at him. “I’m certain you’ve never slept as a goose. _You_ wouldn’t know.”

“Well neither would you!”

“I said they _look_ comfortable! Not that they _were_ comfortable. Semantics, my dear!”

“So now we’ve strayed from theoretical knowledge to speculation.”

“I suppose you’ll disparage that as well,” sniffs Aziraphael.

“I like questions,” says Crowley. “It’s this making up answers based on nothing that I object to.”

“Fine then,” declares Aziraphael. “We’ll give it a go.”

“Fine!” snaps Crowley, before he can really process the words. “Wait, what? Give what a go.”

“Sleeping,” says Aziraphael grimly. “As geese.”

Crowley stops walking.

"You can't be serious."

"I am very serious," says Aziraphael, and points at the pond. "We'll have to do it here, of course. For an authentic experience."

"Authentic-" sputters Crowley. "Angel, these geese are not going to just let two strangers join their flock."

"We don't have to mingle," says Aziraphael stubbornly. "We'll be a flock of our own, just you and me."

And it's stupid, utterly barmy, but this is where Crowley crumples.

"Fine," he groans, heart fluttering. "Just you and me."

~

“It is very inconvenient, not having hands,” mutters Aziraphael, fidgeting restlessly, first resettling one wing, then the other. “Can’t even take a book to bed.”

“If you had a book,” says Crowley, rolling his eyes. “You wouldn’t sleep at all. You’d just stay up all night reading it. Now stop fidgeting, or we’ll never get to sleep and we’ll have turned ourselves into geese for nothing.”

He leans over to pluck a loose feather from Aziraphael’s back with his beak, which he promptly drops when he notices the pattern on his wings.

“Seriously, Angel?” he groans. “Geese don’t have tartan patterns!”

“The _anser brachyrhynchus_ has a lovely grey and white patterning naturally!” argues Aziraphael.

“Which you’ve modified,” Crowley points out.

“Like you’re one to talk,” says Aziraphael. “I’ve never seen a Brent goose with all black feathers and a red ring around its neck.”

“Well I’ve got standards, haven’t I? I’m a _demon_ goose, I have to look the part.”

"Just until dawn," Aziraphael reminds him.

" _Goodnight_ , Aziraphael," says Crowley pointedly, and tucks his head beneath one wing.

~

At the first light of dawn, the park is empty, so they pop into a bush next to the lake and awkwardly stumble out the other end as humans.

“Evil,” says Crowley grudgingly, shaking off the feathers. “But comfortable.”

“It was not unpleasant,” says Aziraphael, looking a bit rumpled as he brushes fluff from his sleeves. “But I’m still not sure I see the point.”

“S’okay,” says Crowley. “Doesn’t have to be for everyone.”

They both take a moment to stare at the sunrise, reflected pink and golden in the waters of the pond.

"Well!" says Aziraphael. "Breakfast?"

Crowley offers his arm, which Aziraphael takes immediately.

"What were you thinking?" Crowley asks, snapping on a pair of sunglasses as the light breaks over the trees.

"... eggs?"Aziraphael suggests lightly, bouncing a bit on his toes.

"We spend a night as birds, and now you want to eat eggs." Crowley lets a slow smirk steal across his face. "You really _are_ a bastard."

"Oh, hush you," says Aziraphael, blushing. Just for that, he does not mention the small glossy feather still sticking out above Crowley's ear.

Besides, it looks a bit rakish, the gleaming black a stark contrast against the red of his hair. Crowley would probably like it.

Arm in arm, they stroll towards breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for Aziraphael's wings being tartan-patterned comes from [this beautiful comic by NaniiebimWorks on Tumblr](https://naniiebimworks.tumblr.com/post/634027627203723264/good-omens-fancomic-tartan-and-starlight-part-1)


End file.
